Family Life

Sunday morning went as expected. It started with the usual rush to get the family out the door to church, followed by the breaking of bread (communion service) where my main focus was keeping the kids quiet. It’s hard to concentrate on the service itself if the boys speak up whenever the congregation is at its quietest. Our fellow church-goers assure us they don’t mind our children’s chatter, but my embarrassment begs to differ.

I spent the break between services frantically trying to set things up for the speaker at the second service, who’d given me some last-minute material he wanted to use.

And so it went. The morning was a rush, a blur, a gray nothingness rendered even more meaningless by my severe long-term lack of sleep. I go to church for this?

As we were collecting our stuff to go home, I was asked if I wanted to lead this afternoon’s Praise & Worship service. I replied on automatic: Sure! Why not? It was only after lunch that the realization of what I’d agreed to hit home, and I wondered why I’d taken on the job in my exhausted state.

I had a long list of things to do between lunch and the worship service, and about 45 minutes before it was due to start I realized I’d run out of time and had better prepare something. I spent about twenty minutes quickly putting together an order of service while Debbie woke the boys and got them ready to go out. For some of that time a small boy stood beside me trying to press keys on my keyboard (Ctrl, Alt and Shift were favourites). As if I needed the distraction.

I went back to church suspecting this was all a big mistake, but feeling responsible for seeing it through because I’d promised.

Led by the Holy Spirit, reality turned out to be far, far superior to my fears. We had a good-size congregation who sung well. Good audience attention and participation. The hymns and choruses I’d selected fit together way better than I thought they would. The piano playing went off without a hitch (well, I actually mucked it up once, but that was hardly the pianist’s fault). The boys even behaved themselves for the entire hour. Songs spoke to the gloom in my heart and lifted my spirits. By the end I was glad to have been involved. I was thankful for God’s leading and blessing. And I was pleased the Holy Spirit had an opportunity to speak to several in the congregation during the service. Indeed, none of it could be credited to my own attitudes and efforts.

But we have this treasure in clay jars, so that the extraordinary power belongs to God and does not come from us.

2 Corinthians 4:7 (NET)

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